<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Telegraph Boy. <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/></h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">DEATH bids his heralds go their way </p><p class="line">On red-rimmed bicycles to-day. </p><p class="line">Arrayed in blue, with streak of red, </p><p class="line">A boy bears tidings of the dead: </p><p class="line">He pedals merrily along, </p><p class="line">Whistling the chorus of a song; </p><p class="line">Passing the time of day with friends, </p><p class="line">Until the journey almost ends. </p><p class="line">Then slowing down, he scans each gate </p><p class="line">For the doomed name upon the plate. </p><p class="line">That done, he loudly knocks and rings, </p><p class="line">Hands in the yellow missive; sings </p><p class="line">His song. The maid says at the door</p><p class="line">" No answer," and he's off once more.</p></div><p class="line">* * * * * * *</p><div class="stanza"><p class="line">No answer through the empty years! </p><p class="line">No answer but a mother's tears!</p></div><p class="byline">Edward Shillito.</p>(The <em>Nation</em>, (June 12th, 1915.)</body></html> · Great War